Norrington
by Ashley M Biggs
Summary: Norrington is getting married. All hands are welcome to attend.
1. Default Chapter

The gentleman sat alone in his bedroom, bent over the mahogany desk with the only light that abetted the darkness that threatened to engulf the room. The letter that lay before him had sealed his fate. The final request to a dear and dying friend, the marriage of himself to the daughter of his mentor, a request that he could not, and at his age, should not ignore.

_March 12, 1734_

_My Dear James,_

_It is with a heavy and grieving heart that I must now write this letter._

_I am ill, my old friend. Too ill to recover. _

_What I ask you, I would ask of no other man. _

_My daughter, seventeen, and comely by all means, will be in need of _

_A home, companionship, as I am all the child has ever known. _

_I ask you, from the deepest of my heart, take my child in marriage._

_Jacqueline Samantha Baird, my daughter, would make you the finest_

_Of wives. _

_By the time you have read this massive, I will have passed. Upon my_

_Death, I will have sent Jacqueline from Liverpool, to Port Royal. _

_My dear Commodore James Norrington, _

_I know you both shall be happy._

_Yours in Christ,_

_Robert Davidson Baird_

James Norrington read the letter many times over, understanding what he was being asked, but still not sure of the reality of the situation. Today was April 15th, exactly two weeks after he had received word from a visitor to Port Royal that Baird had passed away from influenza on March 31st. He had received the letter the same day. The ship, according to the visitor, that carried his soon-to-be wife was due to arrive in Port Royal April 16th.

He blew out the candle that illuminated the master bedroom of his family's estate. As a child, his parents had kept this room, along with his mother's personal quarters and his father's study, locked at almost all times. They died, leaving the key with the solicitor for when Edward would use the room. When his elder brother, Edward had married Caroline, he had expected that they would keep it locked at all times as well. They had never had the chance to live at _Whistlemount_, for they died two days into their wedding voyage to France. Pirates, leaving no survivors, had attacked their ship.

Norrington lay down in the feather-downed mattresses and comforter. As he rested, he called upon memories of childhood: His parents, his elder brother, and himself. At 17, he entered the Royal Navy and by 22 had become a Lieutenant. It was at this time, that Robert had married and died. Instead of taking the title of Lord Abington, he kept to his duty. Another eight years, he was named Commodore of the Royal Navy based in Port Royal. A year later, he finds himself engaged to a woman he had never met.

Tomorrow, he would meet Jacqueline Baird and marry her, not only for the love of a good friend, but the need to produce hires for the Norrington Estate. His family was now gone, and in order to continue the name, he would have to marry.

While it was true that Elizabeth Swann had married William Turner, it was not the end of the sailor's life. He threw himself into his duty and allowed nothing to prevent him from ridding the seas of scallywags.

And while he hoped for the best, namely a beautiful and subdued girl. One who would give him the children he needed without much impact on his life.

Yes, tomorrow night, he would marry Miss Baird.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

"Miss Baird?" the maid called, opening the door to the cabin. "We are coming up to Port Royal. The Captain said to make ready to depart." The young girl entered the room, waiting for her mistress to respond.

Jacqueline Baird sat on the aft windowsill, watching the waves of the ocean move back and forth. She had been on this thrice damned boat for weeks, and was ready to regain her land legs. However, what awaited her was not how she envisioned spending the rest of her live.

Marriage to Commodore James Norrington, a man she had never met but had heard rumors. A man whose body was made of steel and his heart made of iron. Yes, her father had been quite distressed when he had told her a year ago that on of his dearest friends had turned into machine.

Now she was set to marry him. The irony did not escape her. As her father explained to her the night he died, it may be good for them both. "James, my daughter, is a man of honor. He will allow you the freedoms that you enjoy, which is considerable when compared to the other women of London. He will protect you, and maybe in time, come to love you. All I ask, my dear Jacqueline, is that you love and respect him in return.

She looked over to her bed, the one she had shared with her maid. Tonight, she would share a different bed with a different partner. Her mind raced with the possibilities of the night.

Her gowns had been packed and brought aboard. She really only wore two the whole of the time she had been out at sea. She would have to dress much more regal if she were to impress the Commodore, to gain some form of freedom in the trap of marriage.

She was beautiful, this she knew. Long red hair, curly and pulled back from her face. Pale skin, showing her mother's Irish heritage. Slim and trim body. Yes, she was beautiful. And smart. She knew Latin, Italian and Spanish. She was a fitting package for any man.

However, she did not have just any man. She had to marry a man of Iron.

"Ready my green gown, Gertrude. And tell the Captain that we will be ready to depart when he pulls into port." She said, her voice crisp and firm. Now she just had to make her nerves crisp and firm as well.


	2. Confessions

Norrington, dress splendidly in full uniform, stood on the pier, watching as _The Messily_ pulled into dock. The ship was a luxury class vessel, designed especially for the wealthy. How would Robert Baird's daughter be able to afford this trip? According to the account records he had received from her solicitor, there had been almost nothing left of her father's estate. Essentially, she was coming to him broke and alone.

Waves splashed, and wood cracked as the plank lowered onto the dock. The crew shuffled about making ready for the passengers to depart into Port Royal. It was early afternoon now, and the wedding was set for seven that evening. It left barely five hours for them to acquaint themselves to each other.

He watched as various people left the ship, small families, and the rich coming for a summer relaxation. Then he saw her.

Dressed in a green gown, she stepped onto the plank and began to descend. A hat, foppish at best, adorned her head. He saw red-gold curls falling from where they were tucked. He could make out her slim out line, pale skin. She was a beautiful woman, but not in the same way as Elizabeth. While Elizabeth had the beauty that he wanted to preserve, Jacqueline Baird had a different kind of beauty.

"Miss Baird?" he asked, his voice gruff.

The woman clad in green raised her head as she approached him, coming to stop directly in front of him. Up close, she was even more beautiful than he had seen. Her eyes, crystal blue, her lips a cherry red. Her handbag swayed from her wrist.

"I am Miss Baird." She stated, her mouth turned slightly down. She turned and waved to her maid. Norrington saw the young girl come forward, towing a suitcase behind her.

Norrington raised his arm, offering it to Jacqueline. "Bradley," he called. "Assist Miss Baird's lady-servant with their luggage." Deftly, he led Jacqueline to the carriage that awaited them at the end of the dock.

"You are Commodore Norrington?" she asked. She adjusted her hat to block the imposing sun from her eyes.

"I am," he stated stoutly. He walked them toward the carriage, and helped her inside. As he held her hand, he once again took her in. She was a beautiful woman. He entered the carriage behind her, and sat directly across from her. "Welcome to Port Royal."

"Thank you Commodore." She smiled gently. He seemed to be such a hard man, with little joy showing on his face. Would he be demanding or gentile? Why did her father trust this man? What did he have to offer in the ways of humanity? "I look forward to seeing more of it. I heard from a friend that it was indeed beautiful."

'Quite." He was being deliberately quiet, attempting to judge her mood, herself. "I have arranged for a few days leave, following the wedding tonight. Perhaps we can tour the town."

Her face lit up, but only for a second, before schooling her features again. "That would be lovely." She looked out the window, toward the passing town. "The wedding is set, then?"

Did she not know? Did her father not tell her that it would be after immediately arriving that she would marry? He cleared his throat. "Yes, Miss Baird, this evening at seven in the town chapel." Her features did not show any sign of emotion. "Your father felt it best that you, we, should marry as soon as possible."

She turned to face him, a light smile playing on her lips. "My father never really liked waiting." She opened her handbag, and pulled out a folded letter. "He left me a note, a few days before he died. He told me not to open it until I reached Port Royal and was safely married."

"You have not opened it?"

"Why should I? There really isn't anything that I would want to know that I don't already know. The solicitor was quite clear on the reason why my father wanted to see my safely married off. The only thing it could tell me, would be about you. And I honestly do believe that you will be more than forthcoming should I have any questions about your personal life." She spoke bluntly, but in truth, she was interested in what the letter did have to say. Would her father reveal secrets or some hidden truth about her new husband, or would he simply tell her to be good and do as she is told? In that moment, other questions arose. What would he allow her to do, what would he forbid her to do? Would she be allowed to continue her work? What about her writings, her research? Would he scorn? Would he laugh? Would he take away the only true passion she ever had?

"And what reason, Miss Baird, did your father have for…passing you off to me? A man so far removed from the society and place of your birth?" He asked the question gently, but there was some bitter scorn in his voice that he could not hide. This new life on which he was about to embark would require some adjustment, not only to his day to day activities but to his personality also.

Miss Baird looked out the window once again. "I am not a virgin, sir. No man in England would want a tainted wife." He heard the cold iron in her voice, almost as if a dare to speak ill of her. He wondered if her temper matched her hair color. "Especially one with no dower to speak of," she continued. She kept her face turned away, making her words slightly muffled by the glass.

He sat back in his seat and watched as the young woman before him curled into herself. She was still a girl, he suspected, in some ways. But if she admitted to knowing a man before taking her vows, then she was also most defiantly a woman.

"Tainted? Tainted how, Miss Baird?" he asked. How could Robert not tell him? How could he be expected to take a woman to wife that was 'tainted'? He was not in that much of a need.

She looked at him then, her eyes flashing blue fire. What had her father told him? What did he know? "I cried rape, sir." She leaned forward. "But Londoners do not believe in rape, Commodore. Especially if the woman who cried for justice is to have her attacker's child." She leaned back again. "My father did not wish for all of London to know that his daughter, his only child, was ruined at the hands of one of the most famous and powerful magistrate. Not when the man who harmed his daughter could crush his family and destroy his daughter's future." She sighed. "He sent me away to marry in hopes that you, and Port Royal, would be kinder than the Ton."


	3. Homecoming

Norrington sat back in the carriage and studied the face of the young woman who sat before him. She was pregnant, and not by him. Why did Robert not tell him? How would he hid the woman's growing condition from spying eyes? His brow furrowed. Well, he was to marry this woman, child, or no. Better to lay down the groundwork of their life together now, that she should "cry rape" again.

"This is quite shocking news to me, Miss Baird." He spoke softly, his faced turned to the window of the carriage. From the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him, and her face pale. "We will not postpone the wedding."

"And my child?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

He cocked his head to the side, and turned to look her in eyes. "I have not decided." He cleared his throat.

She sighed. "Will you ask to hear the whole sordid tale, Commander Norrington? Or should I tell you now, so that you may fume over the "situation" even more?" She was venomous now, her body ridged as a statue. Her face flushed. "I wish my father had told you so you would have been better prepared."

He raised an eyebrow. "Prepared? I was prepared to be a husband, Miss Baird. Not the laughing stock of Port Royal. Nor was I prepared to take another man's bastard." His words were biting, cutting deep into her.

She was silent, her face turned toward the windowpane. A single tear ran down her cheek.

"Make no mistake, Miss Baird. I will not have an unfaithful wife, nor will I brook any disobedience. I take it that it is too late for a termination. Yes, I see. Well, you will have to carry the child to term. Those in Port Royal will know the child is not mine, and their tongs will wag. I cannot change that. You will have your child, and you will be a submissive wife." He voice was cold. "I do not wish to hear of your so-called cry, Miss Baird."

She leaned back in her seat. "You do not believe me, then?"

"It is rare that a woman cries rape in Port Royal. Those who talk will _know_ that you have been with a man, and they will not care in which way."

"But do _you_ believe me?"

"I have been slighted by women before, Miss Baird. I am not inclined to believe much of what comes from their delectable lips."

"Will you claim this child?"

"Do I have a choice? If I do not, then those who know me well will question my judgment."

She sighed. "Thank you Commodore."

"Do not thank me yet, little girl. I do not jest when I tell you I will brook no disobedience from you, or your child. You will do as you are told, and you will ask permission before conducting yourself in any social activities."

She looked at him, her eyes piercing. "Will you take away my quill and my parchment?"

"You can write?"

"And read. My father did not raise me ignorant of education."

"So I gather from your words, Madam."

The carriage stopped before a large, but imposing home, overlooking the sea. They both sat quiet as the driver jumped down from the seat and opened the door. Norrington emerged first, and then held out his hand to his bride-to-be.

The house was painted white, black trim around the windows and the second story balcony. It was not grand, but it was imposing. The white washed wood looked not worn but fresh, as if newly pressed.

"Welcome to my home, Miss Baird. This is where I reside, when not at sea. And this is where you will claim residence. The gardens are in the rear, and the sea is laid out in front, and can be viewed from most windows. Also, there is a pier, but you are not to go alone, under any circumstances." He turned and took hold of her elbow. "Though here is the atrium, which has not been well attended." He gestured to a set of double doors. "The dinning room is through there, and the kitchen directly behind it. Do not go in there, least Madam Marks get her claws into you." He pulled her arm, propelling her to a set of rooms behind the stairs. "That is my personal office," he said, quietly. "Do not go in there for any reason." Leading her up the stairs, he noticed the slight frown that marred her brow. "Miss Baird, do not have fear that you will be confined to our bedroom or sitting-room alone. I merely wish for you to understand where I do not wish for you to go." With that, the reached the top stair and he proceeded down the hall. He stopped at the second door on the right. "This is the nursery, which will have to be ready sooner than expected of course." He opened the door to revile a room with little paint and no furnishings. "I'm afraid that the prior owners of this home did not have any use for the room. Neither did I, until now."

"Please, continue." She tried to not let him see how his words, not matter how off handed they were meant to be, hurt her.

"There are a few guest rooms, and the larger double doors at the end is our bedroom." He took her elbow again and propelled her through the white, ornate doors.

The room was furnished for a man. It was sparse, but with grand furniture that seemed to be older than time. The bed alone was wooden with marble inlay. The bed lay facing the east, as if to watch the sunrise through the terrace French doors. The mattress was feather down, of that she was certain, as it rose above the edge of the bed and seemed to puff outward. The bed was adorned with a white bedspread, not fancy in nature, but when placed on a bed such as this, it seemed grand. A Cedar chest sat at the edge of the bed, locked.

She moved forward, acutely aware of him standing in the entranceway. "Its lovely." She said, taking in the white walls and glossy curtains over the six windows that stood within the room. "The light, it must be beautiful in the morning." She didn't hear him grunt in reply, but continued to walk through the room. A chest-of-drawers was set up on the west wall, directly beside an open doorway. The sitting room, she guessed. Her belongings sat near the door as well.

Jacqueline took off her hat, holding it down to her side. Her hair was still tucked up into a common French braid.

Norrington walked passed her, taking off his formal over-coat. "It suits. I enjoy waking up at dawn with the ability to see the morning sun." He motioned for her to sit on the bed. She obeyed, watching as he went to a small shelf off to the west side of the room, and poured a drink. "Brandy?" he asked, turning to face her. Jacqueline shook her head.

"Commodore—."

"James, Jacqueline. My name is James, if we are to be married."

"James, then. Please, tell me how we are to proceed."

"Proceed? To the church, I suppose. We are not having any time away afterwards."

"I meant, how do we proceed after we marry?"

Norrington scoffed. "You were never taught the birds and the bees, Jacqueline?"

Jacqueline bounded off of the bed, her face flushed in anger. "I do, sir, understand my place as your wife. My question is; what will you request of me?

He took of his white wig, revealing a head of dark hair, cut moderately close to his head. "All the duties of a wife. To never lie, nor keep secrets from me. To raise my children and represent my name to the best of your abilities." He took a drink, seeming to have softened toward his new wife-to-be. "What are you wearing to the wedding, Jacqueline?"

"I am wearing one of my best." She sat down again, feeling like a pulpier for the first time in her life.

"That will do for now. We will set upon ordering you a new wardrobe soon."


	4. After the Moment

The wedding was quick, held at a small church with an elderly Catholic priest who took great joy in Norrington's marriage. It had not been the traditional wedding filled with festivities and niceties. Norrington, himself, had been cold and unfeeling as she stood shaking before the alter, and when the traditional kiss came, he touched her cheek with his lips and abruptly left her standing alone as he exited the church. She followed, already feeling rejected and forced into the wifely duty to follow her husband. The ride home was completed in silence, with Norrington riding on one side of the carriage and Jacqueline on the other. He kept his face turned toward the window, his eyes trained on the passing landscape. She kept her eyes turned down, hoping to keep him from making a comment about their new life together. Upon their return to Norrington's home, Norrington immediately went into his study and shut the door. As Jacqueline climbed the stairs, she heard the faint sounds of a piano being played. It was quite clear that James Norrington would rather lock himself away then attempt to comfort his unwanted wife.

She now sat alone in the master bedroom, half-undressed, on the mattress, facing the French doors. The dress she had worn lay crumpled on the floor, along with her hat and gloves. In her undergarments, she stood and made her way over to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of the room. Turning to her side, she looked for any signs of change in her figure. She was nearly 3 months along now, and while she was not yet showing, she could feel the difference in her body. A month ago, when she began her trip from England to Port Royal, she had felt as she always had; healthy and vibrant. At some point during the trip, she began feel feverish, tired and sensitive in parts of her body that had never been sensitive before. Now, she felt sluggish toward the middle of the day, followed by a time of energy and then a second period of sluggishness that results in her retiring for the night. She ran her hand down over her stomach, searching for visual changes that were not yet there.

The door suddenly opened, and Norrington stepped through, his waist coat half way open and his white wig in his hand. He glanced at her before setting his wig on the stand near his chest-of-drawers.

She covered her chest with her arms. The dimming sunlight caught a few of her tendrils that had fallen from their French bun. "I didn't hear you finish playing." She scrambled to a corner of the room where her trunk now lay open. "You really are very good." She pulled on a gray wrapper.

"My mother taught me. As a boy, I spent hours at the piano." He took off his over-coat and laid it on the bed. He noticed her dress laying on the opposite floor. "Mrs. Randall will be here in the morning to start your dresses. I've asked her for six. Three formal, two daily and one lounging. That should suffice." He sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to remove his boots. He looked over his shoulder at her. "You do not look like you are expecting a child. How far are you?"

She pulled the wrapper closer around her, and looked down at her feet. "three months, about." She met his eyes. "Father found out just after writing you. I assumed he would send another note, explaining the circumstances….but…." Jacqueline waved a hand in dismissal.

Norrington leaned back on the bed, and focused all of his attention on her. "You will tell me about your cry of rape, Lady Norrington." There was no softness in his voice, and his eyes were cold enough to make her shiver.

Jacqueline shook her head and moved to stand by the French doors. She seemed to withdraw from the room, her eyes focused on the sea.

"You offered to tell me earlier. Why not now?" He was growing impatient.

"It is…difficult…James."

"Tell me, or I shall petition Governor Swann to allow a full inquiry of your supposed rape?"

She didn't respond. Rather, she watched the sea, her body shaking. After a few moments, she heard him get up from the bed and come to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders, and started to squeeze. It was intentional, and she could tell from the strength of his hands that he could be physically harmful to her if he wanted.

"Tell me." After another moment of silence from his new wife, he squeezed harder.

She spoke. "I was visiting a friend of my father's. A magistrate to be exact. I was in his personal library and was reading a book I had found on a side table. I didn't realize that Magistrate Stevens had entered the room and locked the door. When I looked up at the door closing, I knew that it wasn't a social call. He had looked funny, in his face. He looked…demented." She swallowed, hard. "It was over in minutes. And he just left."

"Did you not fight? Call out?"

"And who would have come to my rescue?"

Norrington looked at her face, knowing what power a magistrate held over other. No one would come to her aid. For the first time since his impromptu marriage, he saw his haggard wife and felt complete empathy. He turned her to face him and looked in her eyes.

Could he accept her as his wife? The child as his? Would Port Royal accept them?


End file.
